


His Fortuna

by Chocolatequeen



Series: Glimpses of a Different Life [6]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book: The Stone Rose, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8599735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatequeen/pseuds/Chocolatequeen
Summary: The Doctor had refused to tell Rose that he loved her, because he knew losing her would hurt. But now she’d been turned to stone, and he realised how futile that attempt at self-protection had been.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is The Stone Rose story for Glimpses of a Different Life. If you’re not familiar with that series, the opening premise is that the Doctor and Rose started a romantic relationship before he regenerated. This is the sixth story, and the changes are piling up. 
> 
> Since it's based on the book, there are a few sections of dialogue quoted--particularly the scene between Mickey and the Doctor at the museum.

Sadness and anger tore at the Doctor when he looked at the stone Rose, standing on her plinth. He’d known when he’d seen the statue before that it was an uncanny likeness, but he hadn’t expected this. His gaze travelled over her, taking in the missing hand and the dings on her arms, and he flinched. He’d promised to keep her safe, and he’d failed—badly.

“Well, aren’t you going to do something?” Mickey demanded. “You said you could fix her!” His voice squeaked a little on the word fix.

The Doctor drew in a slow breath, then turned to look at Rose’s old boyfriend. “Mickey… would you mind giving me a moment alone with Rose?”

Mickey snorted. “Not happening, mate.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I know she’s your girl now, but it’s your fault she’s like this.”

“I know!” The words exploded out of the Doctor, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and repeated it, softer. “I know. I know this is my fault, and you can’t possibly be any angrier with me than I am. But please.” He held his hands out, palms up. “I just need…”

 _To say goodbye alone._ He swallowed the words back. It wouldn’t be goodbye—it wouldn’t. The restorative had brought back dozens of statues already. Rose would be injured, and they would have to do something about a bionic hand for her, but she would be alive.

But what if she wasn’t? He couldn’t stop the thought from haunting him, and he wouldn’t be able to use the potion on her until he’d taken a chance to say goodbye.

Mickey’s eyes widened, then his shoulders drooped. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll…” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll just be waiting over here.”

The Doctor watched Mickey walk away, then he turned back to Rose. He pressed his palm to her cheek, and for a second, he swore he could feel the warmth of her skin instead of cold marble. The illusion died quickly when she didn’t press into his caress, the way his Rose always did.

“I love you,” he told her, his voice breaking on the last word. The sentence he’d been so afraid of came easily now, when he knew she couldn’t hear him, and he cursed his cowardice. Losing Rose hurt, would always hurt, and there was nothing he could have done to keep it from hurting. Keeping those words to himself hadn’t saved him from any pain. He tried to ignore the hollow ache in his chest that said it hurt more, knowing he would never see the way her eyes lit up when she heard them.

“I love you,” he murmured one more time, then he tipped the bottle up over her head and poured a single drop of the green liquid onto the statue’s head.

He waited breathlessly, but nothing happened. No colour came back to her cheeks; there was no movement in her chest that indicated breathing.

“So what’s supposed to happen?”

The Doctor blinked back tears and turned to Mickey. “Nothing. It’s not going to work,” he said, the agony clawing through him giving the words a choked quality. “It’s too late. She must have been stone too long.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and traced light fingers down her arm, until he reached where her hand should be. “It’s over.”

“That’s rubbish,” Mickey growled. The other man grabbed the Doctor by the shirt and got in his face. “You’ve got a time machine. Oh, I know all that ‘laws of time’ stuff, you can’t stop it from happening, but you can find her earlier. Change her back then.”

The Doctor shrugged out of Mickey’s hold and glared at him, hot tears burning his eyes. “Don’t you see? If I changed her back then, then this wouldn’t be here now!” His grief pressed down on him, and he looked at Rose, then back at Mickey. “That’s why I couldn’t find her back in Rome. I was never meant to find her! There’s nothing I can do!”

He reached for her again, brushing his knuckles over her jaw.

And then he saw something. Something he’d missed earlier in all his anger—something that might actually give him hope.

The statue of Fortuna was wearing _both_ earrings.

The Doctor wheeled and ran to the TARDIS. “Oh please, oh please!” he shouted as he ran, desperately hoping that his perfect memory of Rose Tyler hadn’t failed him this time. He grabbed her denim jacket from where she’d left it on the jump seat and ran back out in the museum.

In front of the statue, he tipped the jacket up and shook it so everything would fall out of her pockets. He was vaguely aware that it wasn’t just Mickey staring at him like he was a crazy man. He was drawing something of an audience. But he didn’t care, if only…

An earring tumbled out onto the floor and he grabbed it and held it up to the statue. “It’s the same one,” Mickey said.

“She forgot to put it back on,” the Doctor explained, his mind racing in all sorts of hopeful directions now. “So Rose—the real Rose—is only wearing one earring. But the statue has two. That means this…” Relief weakened his knees, and he grabbed Mickey’s shoulder. “This isn’t Rose. This is just—a statue.”

He sniffed and tugged on his tie. “I’ve got to go back and find her.” He held up the phial, which still contained a single drop of potion in the bottom. “This had better be enough…”

Sheer relief shone on Mickey’s face for a moment, then his forehead wrinkled up in a frown. “Hang on, though. How did this statue get to be here, then?”

The Doctor bounced on the balls of his feet, the giddiness of relief giving him energy. “I’ve got an idea about that. Do you believe in gods?”

Mickey tilted his head and stared at the Doctor. “No.”

A little giggle escaped the Doctor. “Well, right at this moment, I do,” he said. “I think Fortuna here is smiling on us. Come on. I need you to give me a hand here.”

He reached for the statue, but Mickey didn’t move. “Well, come on, what are you waiting for?” the Doctor asked impatiently.

“Maybe an explanation?” Mickey suggested.

“I need to see the artist’s mark. It should be on the base.” The Doctor grunted as he tugged on the statue.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Mickey groaned. “This’ll be the end of my volunteering,” he muttered as they tipped the statue up.

The Doctor crowed when he saw the circular Gallifreyan characters of his own signature. “Right, stand her back up—gently now! This is a two thousand year old statue!”

Mickey rolled his eyes as they put the statue back in place on its plinth. They’d just finished when the security guard came rushing back in.

“Time for a quick getaway, I think,” the Doctor said as he pushed Mickey toward the stairs and ran for the TARDIS.

“You will get her back, won’t you?” Mickey yelled after him.

“Oh, yes!” the Doctor promised.

He shut the doors and looked at the console, the enormity of what he was about to do sinking in. It was hardly a sacrifice worth considering when compared to the possibility of losing Rose, but it was certainly nothing he’d ever done before.

“All right, old girl,” he murmured as he strode to the console. “Let’s go visit Michelangelo. I need to learn how to sculpt.”

oOoOoOoOo

Several long, lonely months later, the Doctor stared at another statue in a wooded glen. _This_ was his Rose, exactly as she’d been months ago, and yet only the day before. He tilted his head and compared the Minerva before him to the Fortuna tucked away in the TARDIS. _Yep, I did a pretty good job._

He took a shuddering breath and pulled the phial out of his money pouch. He’d been very careful not to lose this during his time with Michelangelo, never forgetting that this glass phial contained his single hope of recovering Rose. And now he was here, and she was here, and…

The Doctor swallowed hard and poured the last droplet of the restorative onto the stone Rose’s head, then he watched breathlessly as colour returned to her cheeks.

Rose gasped, and her eyes flew open. Ursus was trying to turn her into a statue! She had to run.

But this wasn’t Ursus’ studio, and… She blinked, and her eyes focused on the figure in front of her. And that was not Ursus.

Rose launched herself into the Doctor’s arms, dropping the spear she held when she accidentally hit him with it and wrapping both arms tightly around his neck. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you,” she whispered.

He picked her up and held her tight, swinging her slightly so her feet swayed above the ground. His lips pressed to her hair, and she heard a soft hum of happiness rumble in his throat before he set her back down.

“Rose Tyler,” he breathed.

“Yes, Doctor?”

 _Blimey, you’re jeopardy friendly,_ or maybe, _I missed you—_ that’s what she expected him to say.

Instead, he moved his hands up to cup her face and brushed his thumbs over his cheeks. The intense emotion in his brown eyes was one she’d seen there before, but he wasn’t actually going to…

“I love you.”

She squeaked in surprise, and he leaned forward and kissed her. Rose arched into her Doctor, sinking her fingers into his hair and letting him pull her close, until there wasn’t a millimetre between them. She moaned softly when his tongue swept into her mouth and clung tightly to him, trying to tell him how she felt without words.

When he finally eased out of the kiss and leaned back a little, she smiled up at him. “My Doctor. I love you, too.”

His eyes glowed with happiness, and a moment later, he swooped down for another kiss—this one filled with the joy and ecstasy of love freely given and received.

A loud gasp took them both by surprise, and Rose jumped back out of the Doctor’s arms. Vanessa was staring at them, her jaw hanging open.

“How… how did you get there?” Her eyes darted from Rose to the Doctor. “You can’t possibly have got here before me.”

“You of all people should know that anything’s possible.” The Doctor’s arm slid around Rose’s waist, and she looked up at him. “Rose, let me reintroduce you to Vanessa, who is not an astrologer or a Roman slave, but a girl from the year 2375.”

Rose blinked. “Blimey, and I thought I was a long way from home.”

She and Vanessa listened then as the Doctor explained what he’d worked out—how he’d found the phial and saved the slaves who’d been turned to statues, along with Optatus. How he’d gone back to the British Museum, thinking he could save Rose, only to realise the statue there couldn’t be the real Rose.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, and bleak sorrow appeared in his eyes for a moment. Rose reached out to stroke his face, only able to guess at how desperate he must have been.

The Doctor shook his head slightly, then smiled brightly at Rose and Vanessa. “But it’s all done now, except finding Ursus and taking care of him. We’ll do that and be home in time for tea.”

oOoOoOoOo

Rose really should have known things would go wrong as soon as the Doctor declared the task easy. But how could she have known how disastrous the next twenty minutes would be? Although really, a rogue GENIE granting wishes in ways the wishers never intended was _exactly_ the kind of thing that would happen to her and the Doctor.

And now, hours later and after an adventure of her own, she was in the position the Doctor had been in earlier—staring at the stone figure of the person she loved. Rose took the full phial and held it in trembling hands. This had to work. She couldn’t lose the Doctor now.

She looked at the statue of the Doctor, his features still the same determined gaze, his arms still stretched out to save Vanessa. His jaw was set—she could even see the muscle twitching beneath the stony flesh.

She reached out automatically and tried to smooth out the furrow between his brows, but stone doesn’t smooth like skin does. A sob caught in her throat, and she rested her forehead on his marble chest. “I love you,” she whispered, needing to say it again, even if he couldn’t hear her.

Then Rose took a step back and tipped the phial up over his head. For a moment, it was like nothing had happened, and she clutched her hands to her chest. _Please, oh please let this work._

Then the rigid locks of hair softened and moved in the breeze. His face took on a healthy, pinkish hue instead of the colour of cold, white marble. Rose laughed in delight when his eyes blinked—even the way he couldn’t quite blink, the right eye closing a second slower than the left eye, was perfect and wonderful to her now.

The Doctor’s rich laughter joined hers, and then his hands grabbed her by the waist and a moment later, he picked her up and spun her around, both of them laughing in celebration of their reunion.

Her head was still spinning when he set her down. His hands on her waist pulled her close, and Rose linked her hands behind his neck and closed her eyes when he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I knew you would save me,” he whispered against her lips a moment before kissing her.

Rose sighed into his mouth, but his words ate at her. She’d thought… for hours she’d thought…

The Doctor pulled back when he tasted salt on his lips. “Rose?” He brushed her tears away. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

She buried her face in his toga and he tightened his arms around her, wanting to keep her safe from whatever had upset her.

“You trusted me to save you, but I thought I’d lost you,” she said finally, her voice hoarse. “You were stone, and everything was wrong, and I didn’t know how to make it right.”

Relief coursed through him. Not relief that she’d been upset, but that her hurt was so easy to soothe.

“Shhh, Rose. You _did_ make everything right. I’m sure it wasn’t as easy as it seems from my perspective, but whatever happened, you managed to fix it all.”

There were a few things still to take care of it, as it turned out, small niggling details like making sure they got the almost-full phial of restorative to his past self later that day. But none of them even compared to the seemingly insurmountable of bringing petrified humans (and Time Lords) back to life.

It wasn’t until they were in the TARDIS alone after dropping Vanessa off at home and freeing the GENIE that Rose realised one very important detail they hadn’t resolved.

Her statue.

She flew around the console, trying to remember how the dials had been set on the navigation panel—failing miserably, but trying. “We’ve got to go back!” she gasped, knowing it would be impossible without the Doctor’s help. “We’ve… my statue! Ursus never made the statue in the museum! An’ if there isn’t a statue of me in the museum, then you and me never would’ve come back to Rome in the first place, and this whole adventure will cause a massive paradox.”

The Doctor laughed and pulled her hands away from the controls.

Rose didn’t find anything amusing about the prospect of a paradox. “What’re you laughing for?” she snapped. “I watched the Reapers eat you once—I’m not gonna do it again!”

A twinge of remorse struck the Doctor, and he pulled Rose close. “I wasn’t laughing at you, love,” he promised, rubbing her back. “Here, come with me.”

He led her to a small room with high, white walls and light streaming down from above. Sculpting tools were piled on one side of the room, and in the middle, standing on a plinth, was the statue of Fortuna.

“See? We’ll just pop back to Rome and drop this off—paradox averted.”

Rose circled the statue slowly. “But… Where did… How did…”

The Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Well, as Mickey said, it was sculpted by someone who knew you pretty well.”

She stopped behind the statue and her eyebrows knit together. “Is my bum really that—”

“Yes.” The Doctor rolled his eyes. He’d just told her he’d sculpted a statue of her, and she focused on what her bum looked like. “This statue is accurate in every details. Bum. Arms. Legs. Nose. Perfect lips.”

Rose came back around to stand in front of him. She looked at him, then back at the statue. “Doctor… Did you make this?”

“Yes, Rose.”

“But how?” She bit her lip, then said, “You said you didn’t sculpt. You said you weren’t a master sculptor—I heard you.”

“I learned.” He took a deep breath and explained it all to her—losing her in Rome, going back to the museum, realising that statue was not the real Rose, the understanding that the only missing piece was the actual statue of Rose.

“So I went to the Renaissance and apprenticed myself to Michelangelo. Mickey texted me—”

The rest of his sentence was muffled when Rose stretched up and pressed her lips to his. The Doctor only hesitated for a moment before kissing her back. Her tongue swiped against his bottom lip, and he willingly opened his mouth, letting her control the kiss.

Finally, she pulled back, breaking the kiss with a soft pop. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” the Doctor asked, a little breathless.

Rose fixed her gaze on his chest and tugged on his lapels. “You spent all that time learning to sculpt… for me.”

The Doctor’s hearts clenched at the vulnerable tone in her voice. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide. “Doctor, that’s… that’s months. And it couldn’t have been easy.”

“Easier than living without you,” the Doctor countered, then immediately felt his ears grow hot when he realised how much those words revealed. “Anyway,” he said quickly, “you know what? I think you bring me luck. My Fortuna, that’s you.”

Rose stared at him. “You mean I’m sort of like a mascot. Like a four-leaf clover, or wearing lucky pants when you go for an interview.”

The Doctor grinned. “That’s it exactly. You’re my lucky pants.” Her eyebrow arched, and he wiped the smile from his face. “Meeting you was the luckiest day of my life, after all.”

“I think we both lucked out that day, Doctor.”

Rose tilted her head and her gaze took on a distant look. The Doctor waited, wondering what she was remembering, or thinking about.

After a long moment, her eyes focused on him again. “Do you ever think of all the things that had to happen to get us to this point exactly?” she asked. “And how things might have gone differently?”

The words were an invitation to look back over their timelines, and the Doctor’s throat closed up at the glimpses he caught of a different life—one where he hadn’t been brave enough to kiss her on Woman Wept. A life where they were still so close… and yet so far from what they were now.

He closed his eyes and purposely looked away from that timeline. It wasn’t their life now, and he wouldn’t go back to being that Doctor.

“I think”—The Doctor cleared his throat—“I think I was right. You are my Fortuna.”


End file.
